Friday, February 27, 2009

The weird friend . . .

The Weird Friend.

There’s one in every crowd. That friend that you have, that you love, simply because. That friend that knows things that you wouldn’t think of knowing. That friend that makes you shake your head in wonder.

Last spring I went on a road trip with my two best girl friends. The SIL (sister in law) and the BFF (no explanation necessary). We set out with one destination in mind. Hershey, PA; birthplace of Milton Hershey, god father of American chocolate as we know it. They have this wonderful historic section where all of the first families lived. I didn’t get to see that part of town, but that’s a story for another blog. They also have 3 Wal-Marts and a Kmart but that coincides with the lack of seeing the historical section blog.

Imagine my surprise upon learning that Hershey was ONLY about 2 hours from Philly. Philly, the birthplace of our great country and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. After much cajoling (okay, I admit...I whined until I got my way) they agreed on this little side adventure. I just couldn’t fathom the thought of NOT going. How could anyone not want to walk through Independence Hall and hear the whispers of the past; not get their picture made by the Liberty Bell? It’s mind boggling, really. They conceded, but I have to save the Philly story for another time. It's an adventure unto itself. I have really good pictures from the interstate.

The really cool part of this road trip was that I realized that our return home from Philly would take us straight through DC. Holy Cow! How cool was this?? Philly AND DC all in one trip?? My poor little brain couldn’t take it! I was giddy with ideas. I am a planner and any good planner has detailed ideas, in folders, most often color coordinated and I am a planner of the first notch. I held off on planning itineraries for us, just barely.

When they realized I had folders they put their foot down. This is a road trip, they said. Let’s be spontaneous, they said. This was actually my third clue, but gullible as I am, I only saw it as clue number one. I do like spontaneity, so I agreed.

The trip was fun. It did make me realize some things about myself and my friends, though, that I’m only now able to admit.

I AM THE WEIRD FRIEND. There, I said it, it's out in the open and can't be taken back.

How could that be? I asked myself. I’m fun. I know lots of cool stuff. I’m pretty, not overly judgmental, very opinionated but I’m still fun. How am I the weird friend?

SIL told me this week that if we weren’t related, we probably wouldn’t be friends because we just didn’t have that much in common. I’m crying now as I type this because I truly felt like she was the sister of my heart, my friend by choice, not by familial bonds.

I realized then that the BFF wasn’t such a BFF anymore.

We had become friends of habit and I was the weird one.

Today, I know of one person that I can truly say understands me when I say I want to smell Ireland. That understands the whispers of the past in Independence Hall. Even my DH, who means more to me than I can describe, doesn’t understand me like this.

How did I come to this point in my life? I have friends, associates, acquaintances that I surround myself with daily and not one of them understands?

In closing, I want to encourage all of you normal folks with weird friends to hug them and tell them that you do love them. Try, for their sakes, even if you have to fake it, to want to know what Ireland smells like.

If you are the weird friend, then look at your normal friends and laugh. They’ll never know the difference in smelling Ireland and smelling their own home towns.


The Weird Friend

P.S. Why doesn't weird follow the i before e except after c rule?

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Just stuff . . .

Some days I wonder if people use their entire brain capacity.

I saw a truck last night. Fancy, fancy truck. Expensive rims, custom paint job-candy apple red. A really gorgeous truck, actually. I lusted over it. It was a sexy truck.

And then I read the customized license plate. I wondered if this was his mistake (truck owner) or the people in the tag office who printed it. I wish I'd gotten a picture of it, just so that I could point out to my children that money doesn't make you smart. The tag read as follows:
Sigh . ..the misuse of too/to is one thing that drives me absolutely batty. Now, because I am smarter than the average person (at least DH tells me that I think I am) I knew what he meant. It still doesn't excuse the lack of intelligence. It's not complicated. Pay attention in English class and you'll figure it out!

Anyway . . .

I was thinking of my children and how blessedly, wonderfully, different they are from each other. MC, the middle child, is my pretty one. Really she is pretty (thank GOD) because sadly, I think she inherited her daddy's momma's intelligence. This conversation actually occurred one afternoon when DH had to run errands with L, the oldest and MC in tow. After promising them an ice cream cone for their good behavior, he noticed that MC was oddly quiet. MC, on a good day, utters no less than 10 million words. She thought for a moment and then asked "Can we have ice cream on it?" I kid you not.

M, the youngest of the trio of mini-queens in our home is the one who really makes me laugh. Just this week, while having supper, she announces, "I wish I were three again. . . .Man, those were the days!" I can't figure it out. She's a 30 year old in a 6 year old body.

L is almost 11 and in that pre-pubescent stage of nearly dying every time she opens her mouth.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009


I think I've gotten too old or too married to tell when someone is flirting with me. How freakin SAD is that? Seriously.

There's a fella that I know. Well actually DH knows him too. He's a nice fella, his wife is nice too. We were at a dance for V Day and while DH took a potty break the three of us danced to a slow song because everybody but ME was on the dance floor and obviously DH because he was in the potty.

Anyway . . .I noticed that the wife had a tongue ring. I've known her about a year now and just now realized she had one. I asked her about it, how long she's had it blah, blah, blah. Husband looks at me and says, "You like that?"

"Huh?" My quick comeback.

"It's sexy aint' it? You want to know how it feels."

"I dunno . .. you got one?" Really, before I thought about it, this flew from my mouth. Admittedly the wife is pretty, but he's more my style. He has dangly parts, she doesn't. Not that I'd consider either one because, well, I just wouldn't.

I haven't flirted in years and at this point, with his wife on his OTHER arm, I wasn't quite sure what the heck was going on but she was, like, silent the entire time.

So . ..was I just flirting with him(them even??) or did I just open a can of something I'm not sure how to close?

Do they have books on reacquainting one self with flirting? I think I might need one.

I realize the three-way dancing was something different for me. Heck, three-way anything is way out of the norm, but seriously . . .It was just a dance. Wasn't it? And the only reason I danced with them was it felt too weird to dance with my brother and his wife.

And now . . .after typing all of this, I can't decide if all the erotica I've been reading lately has affected my radar. Or, has it? See!!

Oh and on top of that . . .this isn't the first time this has happened. He's mentioned before a "hook up" between me, the DH and him. What's he gonna do with wifey? He didn't mention her!

I'm going to wrangle this thing to death. Sigh.


Hopelessly Confused


So . . .A friend sent me a picture of HER friend's little friend. Only it wasn't so little. Another friend questioned if the big friend of the not so little friend had a brother, which got me to wondering.

Is penis size hereditary? And if so, from WHO's side does it come?

I got blue eyes from my dad. DH got blue eyes from his mom. My mom and his dad are both brown eyed?

I've never done brothers so I have nothing with which to compare.

Just a thought . . .

Monday, February 23, 2009

Bravery . . .

or the lack thereof.

I get melancholy (don't you just love that word? I can't understand why it's not used more. It has such a pretty sound . . .) sometimes and think about all the things I'd like to do or the things I'm too chicken to do. I've compiled a list. I'm not sure what it says about me . . .

1. Pole Dancing. Wouldn't it be great to have a real-life stripper, one who actually makes a living at it, teach you the art of pole and lap dancing. I can wiggle with the best of them, but seriously I'm not coordinated to think, dance AND disrobe all at once.

2. Flying. As a senior in high school I had this grand idea of joining the Marines and flying planes. Hoorah! Now, looking back, I'm thankful that I didn't. Who'd have thought pilots would need perfect vision? Still, I'd like to learn to fly something. Kites are optional.

3. Horticulture. Yes, I'm the biggest dork I know. Things that are unknown to me, interest me. I tried to get books from the library and teach myself. I've realized I'm not a do it yourselfer when it comes to these things. I need to see, touch and feel what I'm learning. The hands on approach works best for me.

4. History. Again, with the dorkiness. The DH wonders how we ever hooked up. I blame it on the T&A. Mine, not his. In my heyday (what the heck does THAT mean) I could've given Jessica Rabbit a run for her money. "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way." But, I digress.

History EXCITES me, makes me all tingly and lightheaded. I yearn, yes yearn, to learn about it, to take it all in. I could spend the rest of my life in school, just learning. I'd love to have a masters in History and a minor in English. What the heck I'd use it for, who knows but I could say that I did it. That's what counts . . .right?

Some days, today being one of those days, I feel trapped inside this body, in this town, in this time. What differences could I have made if any options I chose were changed? Could I have flown that plane as a Marine? Is it too late to go back to school and learn all those things that mean so much to me but make such little sense to everyone else? At this point, why do I even care that it makes no sense to them?

Ehhh . . .One day I'll try to be funny. One day . . .

Friday, February 13, 2009

A few things I've realized about me . . .

1. I'm a LOT more sexual than I previously thought. DH(darling husband) says I've turned into a man. I asked him why he's still doing me. I didn't figure him for a switch hitter. ;)

2. The things that used to turn me on, don't really do it so much any more.

3. It doesn't matter that the kids socks don't match. It only matters that they're wearing socks.

4. Friends are important.

5. Really good friends are a life line. You only get a few of those. Pay attention, keep them close, comment on their blogs.

6. Trying new things isn't such an oxymoron anymore.

7. Fellatio is fun!


I do that a lot. Wonder. I wonder about the state of my marriage in 5 years. I wonder if my children will make good choices and be successful in their lives. Those are good wonderings, right?

Then I wonder the "what if's". What if I had gone on to college instead of staying home and continuing the relationship with Chad. Then I feel guilty because he is truly an amazing man who loves me as no one else will.

What if I'd only had one child instead of three? Again, the guilt because how can a mother choose between her children? How much easier would my life be?

And then . . I wonder if I hadn't married, hadn't had children where would I be. Would I be the crazy cat lady in 4B? Or the hot, single chick on the prowl? I'd LIKE to think the latter but I know myself too well. I'd be the hot, single cat lady in 4B with stock in energizer.

What do you wonder?